


heat death of a spark.

by andstarswillscream



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Absorbtion, Body Horror, Co-consciousness, Gore, Mind Meld, Other, The Transformers: Till All Are One (IDW)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:57:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andstarswillscream/pseuds/andstarswillscream
Summary: And they were one in the same.





	heat death of a spark.

He could feel his body disintegrating.

Perhaps… that was the wrong way to describe it. _Integrating._

It wasn’t her code rewriting his, but accepting it. He’d known she was a kind soul at heart, but this was ridiculous, he thought, in his soup of a processor. Her code and his intermingled, familiar, like an old friend. It made what was left of him— Vigilem, as a person, not this mess of her code and his that he was— to shudder, chills crawling up his seams. Too familiar, too fast, too much, and yet, curiously, not enough.

At first he thought her foolish, a child, in a war much bigger than her, impossibly hard for her brave little head to conceptualize. Brash, almost endearingly so. How she’d thought she could withstand the power of a titan.

In what was left of him (him as a concept, a person, what an end! To be forgotten, to integrate. He’d already lost his name, his voice. What was left to lose but himself?), he kicked himself, for underestimating that dear little speck. If he could just…. remember his Lord’s voice, he could almost hear Maximo chiding him. 

Gone soft.

Quite literally, as his body and spark yielded to hers, crumbling, and yet… _not._ He could feel parts of him swimming in her, but yet, when he gazed at himself through the blinding light, he was still whole.

What an existence. What a way to go out, to live on remnants in the spark and frame of a mech who’d barely ignited. To be perpetually dissociated from his body, to live in an occupied frame, in a host who’d welcomed his being.

Vigilem assumed there was a sort of irony in all of this, something sick enough to make him laugh, bitter, the sound echoing throughout his body, the parts of him that coursed through her and yet still here, within the spark that had swallowed him whole. He’d been trapped in his own body for millions of years. His Master had been trapped, quite literally, within his frame. Imprisoned.

And as fate would have it, his entire being was being absorbed into Windblade, the heat of her spark wearing him down, his own body pooling helplessly around him. Dread sinking into the deep, dimming parts of him, shredding plating into information, memories, lines of code and tangled, twisted thoughts that only served to make her bright spark glimmer ever brighter.

And he was sludge inside her, an imperfection that her spark boiled and purified, and for a moment, in that bright, beautiful light, Vigilem believed he might just be holy. The pain soon sobered him, like searing fire. And he cried, for Maximo, for Megatronus, even for Metroplex. 

Windblade only embraced him tighter, hands pressing against her spark, his essence and her own. Melding, mixing.

And all at once, his hands moved as hers. Hers, moved has his. He had little control, but could feel her, around him, inside him. Part of him, as he was undeniably part of her. The pain, gone.

But there was no "himself" anymore, was there? No longer an individual, no longer existing entirely on his own. 

He wasn't "just Vigilem", any more than she was still "just Windblade."

Maybe he had grown soft. He couldn't find it in him to care.


End file.
